


Icing

by stardustandreams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - No Titans, Childhood, Confessions, Eremin - Freeform, Friendship/Love, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:08:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandreams/pseuds/stardustandreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Armin’s grandfather owns a bakery, and Armin is a baking prodigy. Eren likes watching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icing

The cobbled street they grew up in held memories at every turn. The little lake that turned to ice every winter- where the children would gather to lace up their skates and show off their figure eights, the twisted lamppost where Eren lost his first tooth, the playground they still frequented even now, as teenagers, and Arlert’s bakery, the only place where all of them _always_ felt at home.

After long, tiring days of school, Armin, Eren and Mikasa would clamber into the little shop and plonk down onto the wooden chairs by the window. The bakery always smelled of freshly baked bread, and they’d breathe in deeply together, then exhale loudly, suddenly ravenous.

Opa Arlert always served steaming muffins, cupcakes or cookies- whatever he had baking in the oven. They’d each get a splash of milk to down it all, and they’d giggle and gossip about the other kids at school, intoxicated over their shared camaraderie.

As they grew, Armin started to master the art of baking. He already knew a few basics, of course. He could mix cookie dough, and successfully- albeit messily- ice a cupcake. But by the time they entered Secondary school, Armin had become a baking virtusio.

After school they’d burst into the bakery, cheeks ruddy from the daily race that started down the street- that Mikasa always won, much to Eren’s annoyance. Once they’d gulped down their glasses of milk, Armin would excuse himself from the chatter, slip on his little blue apron, and join his grandfather behind the counter. He practiced beating the icing sugar into the creamy butter to fluffy perfection, and dropping globs of cookie dough- that they always secretly sneaked spoonfuls of- into the aluminium trays Opa Arlert would set out. Pretty soon, people would remark that why, little Armin was every bit as good a baker as his grandfather!

Occasionally, Eren and Mikasa would help out- sprinkling chocolate chips into gooey batter, or pressing cookie cutters into the rolled out dough- but Armin and his grandfather were a dazzling, dynamic duo. Together they danced behind the counter, synchronising in perfect harmony. Mixing and cracking, beating and rolling, baking and cooling; from the oven to the counter, from the sink to the shiny display case; Arlert hands could transform ordinary flour and sugar into delightful delicacies. Soft, buttery bread, crumbly pies, moist muffins, crunchy cookies… They were true Picassos of baking, and every week their little bakery thrived with the inhabitants of their little town.

Armin, it was quickly apparent, was wonderfully talented at cake decor. Eren soon realised he thoroughly enjoyed watching his best friend pipe swirls of buttercream frosting onto cooled roasted peach muffins- Opa Arlert’s Thursday special, and Eren’s favourite. Usually ever-so-restless, he didn’t mind sitting for hours as Armin painstakingly placed sugar ornaments on a freshly iced birthday cake. He liked watching the way the cold chocolate fudge frosting oozed out of the piping bag, the way Armin’s hands, otherwise jittery with anxiety, were calm and steady as he expertly squeezed lightly, applying an even pressure, as he patiently moved in circles around a cupcake, releasing pressure gently as he reached the middle to form a perfect peak.

He liked the way armin looked when he sometimes got frosting on his cheek, or in his hair.

He liked the way his thick eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement and pleasure.

He really, _really_ , liked the small, satisfied smile that etched itself onto his face when he’d perfectly iced a cupcake.

In fact, it was from his perch at the bar stool behind the counter where Armin practiced his art, that he realised that he may have liked that smile a little _too_ much.

They were in their last year of secondary school- just celebrated their coming of age- and Armin had just topped a red velvet cupcake with thick cream cheese frosting, and was holding it out to Eren, the pleased smile still lingering on his lips, and Eren found that he couldn’t stop looking at that smile. At those pink, soft lips. And he realised that his stomach was lurching, he felt like he was going to throw up and his head was spinning.

He pushed Armin’s outstretched arms away.

“I don’t feel so good,” He’d mumbled, and clambered out of the store, Mikasa trailing close behind, concern evident in her eyes. Eren didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t know what made him react that way. All he knew, however, was that he hated the way Armin’s smile fell, and that when he’d touched Armin, he’d felt something sharp, warm- _electrifying._

He wanted to do it again.

Later that night, he’d lay in bed for hours, wishing he could go back; wishing he’d taken the cupcake- wondering how he could put that smile back onto his face. It was the first time he’d realised that Armin only used that smile when he was decorating. In all their years of friendship-from diapers to drinks- Armin had never smiled like that at anything else.

The next day, things were normal. He and Mikasa met Armin at their usual spot, by the large oak tree where Armin had fallen out and broken his arm when they were nine. Armin had greeted him as chirpily as ever, asked if he was feeling better. Mikasa had given him a strange look, and for some reason, Eren couldn’t look Armin in the eye.

He’d mumbled that he was fine, and allowed Armin to chatter about his trigonometry homework, staying uncharacteristically silent as they trudged through the leaves to school.

Later, Mikasa pulled him aside, and asked him what was wrong. He’d shrugged her off, peeved at her mother-henning, and stomped to his first class. But Mikasa’s eyes said they knew something he didn't, and it made him very uncomfortable.

After school, he’d forgotten about the weirdness, and he was bursting with excitement to tell Mikasa and Armin about Connie’s hilarious prank during math, when he spotted Jean hugging Armin.

This in itself was not uncommon. Jean and Armin were close, after all, and Jean tended to get a little touchy with everyone- Eren included. Of course, Eren and Jean’s not-so-friendly rivalry meant that finding his best friend trapped in his nemesis’ embrace would have been irksome on any day, but on that particular day, he found himself seeing red. He stormed over to them and yanked Jean away from Armin, more than ready to sock him in the face- only to be pulled away by a fuming Mikasa.

“What the hell, Jaeger?” Jean demanded, furiously.

“Let go Mikasa!” Eren cried indignantly, attempting to wriggle free of her death grip. Mikasa stayed silent as usual, and Armin didn’t say anything either, but Eren noted that he waved lightly to Jean in farewell, and for some reason, that made him very, very upset.

Later Mikasa left the bakery early so she could complete a project at Annie’s. Eren was left at his usual spot on the barstool facing the counter where Armin did his magic, although he couldn’t find it in himself to face his best friend. He wasn’t completely daft, and Eren was no stranger to anger and jealousy. He was starting to realise that he hadn’t been sick the day before, and that the feeling he’d been experiencing was _butterflies_. That electricity, the spark that had existed when he’d touched Armin’s hand- he’d heard about that sort of thing, from the chick flicks they sometimes watched at Sasha and Marco’s insistence.

He was in love with his best friend.

“Want to help me with this?” Armin asked, breaking him out of his reverie. Eren’s face felt like it was burning, and he had to force himself to meet Armin’s eyes. Were they always so brilliantly blue? His gaze slid back to his lap, and he nodded slightly, his breathing suddenly quick and shallow.

_Snap out of it, Eren! Quit being so weird- it’s just Armin!_

But just Armin was suddenly very, very cute. Just Armin suddenly had locks of hair that kept getting into his face, that Eren so badly wanted to brush away. Just Armin had lips that were pressed into a small smile, and Eren really wanted to take just armin into his arms and-

“Eren?” Just Armin was looking at him, eyebrows pulled together, concern shining in his baby blues. Eren blushed, internally cursing himself to the high heavens.

“Yeah, okay.” He mumbled, and gingerly took the jar of sprinkles from Armin, doing his best to avoid all physical contact. They worked in silence for a bit, Armin humming a tune softly, Eren keeping his jaw clenched because their proximity was becoming too much for him to bear and really, how was he supposed to act now that he was in _love_ with his freaking best friend?

It took him a while to realise that Armin had stopped humming. He looked up, startled to find that Armin was studying him intently- elbows on the table, head resting on his palms, eyebrows pulled together in concentration, lips pressed in a small, determined line.

“What? Why are you looking at me?” He stammered, flushing intensely.

“You’re keeping something from me.” Armin said knowingly.

“No I’m not!” Eren squeaked, panicking. Armin smirked.

“And that proves it!” He cheered. “So?” Eren looked away.

“So what?” He managed to get out, trying desperately to formulate some kind of excuse to leave that wouldn’t make Armin even more suspicious.

“What is it?” Armin prodded. Eren looked back up at him, and Armin’s eyebrows drew together again. “You weren’t planning on keeping it from me _forever_ right?” He asked, a hint of hurt lacing his voice. _Yes I was!_ Eren was dying to scream, but he held it back and sighed.

“Armin… I can’t tell you yet.” He said finally. This seemed to satisfy Armin, and the blonde finally went back to his icing. Eren mechanically deposited a spoonful of sprinkles on each of the iced cupcakes.

“Eren, not like that- here let me show you,” Armin suddenly reached out and wrapped his slender fingers around Eren’s wrist, causing Eren to jump. Armin looked at him weirdly. “You sure you’re okay? Maybe you should go home and rest…” Armin trailed off, looking rather worried.

That was it. There was his chance to escape! But Eren really liked how Armin’s hand felt on his, and he really liked how he could smell his shampoo-

“I’m fine!” He said, his voice unnaturally high. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m fine.” Armin crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at Eren for a long time, eyes narrowed, searching. Then, he shook his head.

“No you’re not. Listen, I don't know what big secret you have, but it’s making you awfully jumpy, and kinda crazy. You keep spacing out, and you’ve barely said a thing all day!” Eren shrank into his seat, fidgeting uncomfortably under the heat of Armin’s analysis, but Armin wasn’t done. “You can’t look me in the eye, and you’ve ruined four cupcakes with your distracted sprinkling! You keep mumbling and blushing and what on earth was that scene earlier with-” Armin suddenly trailed off, and Eren looked up to look at him. “Oh.” Armin said, and a small, pained smile graced his lips. He shook his head, laughing humorlessly. Eren started to panic, his mind racing with possibilities, his heart pounding furiously. “Eren,” Armin began again, softer this time, his usually expressive eyes now emotionless. “why didn’t you tell me you were in love with Jean?”

_Wait, what?_

“I’m not!” He burst out, desperate to wipe the pain from Armin’s expression. In his haste, however, he only succeeded in sounding defensive and untruthful. Armin offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Eren it’s okay, i get it. Jean’s cute and funny and smart-”

“Wait hang on.” Eren interjected, suddenly uncomfortable with the direction Armin was taking. From the sudden chilly atmosphere, to the Jean-praise, Eren started to get a really bad feeling. “Do you like Jean?” He demanded, somewhat angrily. Armin looked shocked by his intensity and shook his head fervently.

“No, I swear I don’t!” He protested earnestly.

“Armin don’t lie to me.” Eren warned, suddenly irritated, and for some reason, this seemed to infuriate Armin.

“I have never lied to you in my entire life Eren.” He said slowly, his voice low, ice blue eyes glistening with fury. Both boys glared at each other, heavy breathing deafening in the uncomfortable silence that had formed between them. Armin was the first to break eye contact, and he swore under his breath when he realised that in his anger he’d squeezed the icing bag he’d been holding too hard, and there was a large mess of icing on the counter.

“I’ll get the rag.” Eren said stiffly, and he hoisted himself over the counter, to help with the cleanup.

The boys worked in rare silence- Eren wiping the table clean, Armin whipping up a fresh batch of icing. Finally, Armin sighed heavily and put his whisk down.

“OK, I’m sorry I got mad at you Eren.” He said, turning to face him, a small, apologetic smile gracing his lips. “I don’t know what got into me.”

“S’kay.” Eren muttered, turning around to wash his hands at the sink. “I’m sorry too.” He mumbled, although he really wasn’t, and the image of Armin and Jean _together_ was still persisting painfully in his mind, like shrapnel in his heart. Armin moved closer to him.

“Eren… it’s really okay if you like Jean, alright? I mean I’ll be your wingman and every-”

“I don’t like Jean!” Eren exploded, whipping around furiously to glare at his best friend. “I like _you_ , damnit! You- on the other hand- clearly have the hots for old horseface and while that honestly _pisses me off_ , you’re my best friend and I will support you no matter what stupid choices you make. I just don’t want to hear another word about the retard and you can quit looking all sad and upset that I’m going to steal your boyfriend or some shit because I honestly want _nothing_ to do with him at all!” Eren was breathing heavily by the end of his tirade, and Armin was gaping at him, his cheeks flushed.

“W-what did you say?” He stammered, the evident joy in his eyes breaking Eren’s heart.

“Jean’s all yours buddy. I’m outta here.” Eren turned to leave, but Armin stopped him, tugging him buy his arm.

“Eren wait!” He exclaimed, moving closer to him. Closer, closer- their noses were almost touching now. Eren’s back was against the counter, and Armin was pressed up against him. Their breaths mingled together, and Armin’s blue eyes were sparkling mischievously.

“What are you doing Armin?” Eren breathed, his heart palpitating wildly.

“Didn’t I just tell you that I have never, _ever_ lied to you?” Was Armin’s cheeky reply before he pressed his lips against Eren’s.

Eren stayed, frozen in place, too shocked to react. Armin pulled away, eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance. He shuffled closer to Eren, wrapped his arms around his neck, going up on his tiptoes once again.

“Eren, _kiss me back_!” He murmured, and once again, Eren found himself being kissed by his best friend. This time, however, he responded swiftly, wrapping his arms around Armin’s waist, only to push him away shortly afterwards to voice his confusion.

“Wait a second- does this mean you _don’t_ like Jean?” Armin, usually forbearing of his Eren’s slowness, sighed impatiently.

“Yes, Eren.” He said, and tugged Eren’s neck down again-

“Wait hang on-” Eren cut him off.

“What is it now, Eren?” Armin demanded, sounding annoyed.

“You’re kissing me…” Eren started, confusion lacing his tone. Armin nodded restively in response. “So you like me?”

“Yes, Eren!” Armin enthused, and tried, once again to-

“But you looked so upset!”

“Because I thought you liked Jean!”

“Why would that upset you?” Eren demanded.

“Because I like you!” Was Armin’s frustrated reply. Eren gaped at him silently.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Armin said, rolling his eyes at Eren’s cluelessness. Eren stared at Armin, in awe, for a long time. A wave of jubilation washed over him. Armin was here, in his arms- Armin liked him, Armin was smiling that small, adorable smile that had made him realise that he was in love with him in the first place. Armin was-

“Eren?”

“Mhmm…”

“Can we go back to kissing please.”

“Oh, uh yeah”

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

The cobbled street they grew up in held memories at every turn, really. The park bench where they had once found Eren- passed out and almost frozen to death after a wild night of partying, the steep hill they gathered at to sled down every winter, the still-squashed bushes by the park entrance that Armin had crashed his bike into when they were seven, and Arlert’s bakery, the place where Armin and Eren had finally confessed their love for each other.

They still gathered there, every day after school, although Mikaa tended to take her leave a little earlier, while Eren always stayed on for some quality time with Armin. He’d watch his boyfriend paint sugar cookies, decorate gingerbread- or whatever else was in season. He really liked being Armin’s boyfriend, he mused one evening, because now he could openly and unashamedly stare at the blonde. He liked watching the way his golden locks swished about his cheeks, and he liked the soft shadows that his eyelashes casted on his ivory skin. He liked the way his dazzling blue eyes narrowed slightly in concentration and-

“Eren stop looking at me like that, you’re making me uncomfortable.”

“I can look at you however I want.” Eren replied, haughtily. Armin glared at him.

“You’re being a pest Eren.” He warned, and tsked lightly when he realised he’d messed up the cookie.

“And you clearly need a break.”

“I want no such thing.”

“But you need one.”

“Go away Eren.” Armin harrumphed, and pushed the ruined cookie to his boyfriend, who happily wolfed it down. “Bottomless pit...” He muttered under his breath. Eren reached out and tugged his blonde hair. “Eren! stop!”

 

“Hey Grump,” He said through a mouthful of cookie, spraying crumbs everywhere. He swallowed, then smirked at Armin who was still trying to wriggle free of his grasp. “I can think of a more fun activity that can lessen your stress.”

“Let me go Eren!” Armin gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Not until I get a kiss.” Armin whirled around and pressed his lips against Eren’s swiftly.

“Now go. I’m busy.”

“That wasn’t a kiss!”

“Yes it was!”

“I want a proper kiss!”

“By definition,” Armin began, furiously. “A kiss is merely the physical contact of lips on-” Eren rolled his eyes and tugged his boyfriend down to kiss him, the way _he_ wanted to. The way that softened his features, and made his blue eyes sparkle with delight and when they separated, Eren’s favourite smile was gracing his lips. Eren might have liked that smile a little _too_ much, he realised. But it was special and secret and Armin only smiled that way after a proper kiss (not Armin’s irritated definition), or when he was decorating. In all their years of friendship-from diapers to drinks- Armin had never smiled like that at anything else.


End file.
